


the conversations of madmen

by justjoy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e13 Savoureux, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/justjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you know more than you think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the conversations of madmen

**Author's Note:**

> Set some time before Hannibal visits Will.

“I am almost surprised that I haven't seen you before this.”

“Not for a lack of trying, I assure you.” His visitor smiles as she sets the chair down barely a foot away. “Your handlers are protective of you, Will... may I call you Will?”

“I hardly believe that anything I say would stop you anyway. Although you must excuse me for not returning the favour.” He mirrors her pose across the bars, leaning forward slightly, head tilted just a little to the side. “Not afraid of me, Miss Lounds?”

Freddie Lounds returns his gaze unflinchingly, and it is plain as day that she isn't, but Will presses on anyway, because he needs to hear her answer. “I might have killed Abigail Hobbs.” 

“You might have,” she says almost agreeably, and doesn't give him a chance to react before continuing. “A little bird said you told Agent Crawford that you were set up.” 

* * *

“People say many things, Miss Lounds. I imagine you're intelligent enough to know a good story when you see one.”

Freddie studies his face before she answers. They are in no hurry, after all; this hour is her privilege as a journalist and more, and she intends to make the most of it. 

What she finds in Will Graham’s expression isn’t entirely unexpected, but it’s _different_ , although she can’t quite find the word for it — harder, perhaps, razor sharp edges where broken pieces had once lay.

“I'll take that as a compliment.” 

Something shifts slightly in his expression at her words, and Freddie wonders if that was the answer he had been expecting. “Tell me, how does this story go?” 

She can’t help the near-predatory grin this time, because this is a game she knows, one she can play all too well. “Speculation would simply be irresponsible of me, wouldn't it? Tattle Crime prides itself on publishing only the facts.” 

“Humour me, Miss Lounds. You must know how terribly dull it gets in here,” he answers just as easily, expression mirroring her own. “Who frames the FBI profiler?” 

“Someone with access to all the people involved, knew the cases well enough to plant evidence. Above suspicion, or at least believes himself to be so. Someone who was—” and here Freddie stops as she realises what she is saying. Because she knows someone who fit that description exactly. 

They both do. 

“—profiling the profiler,” she finishes belatedly, and if she’d missed it before, there was no way she could now. 

Will Graham’s smile is nothing but hard edges as he looks at her. 

“Excellent work, Miss Lounds,” he remarks almost nonchalantly, and Freddie sets aside those thoughts for later consideration. “I hardly believe your source could have been so remiss as to omit all mention of the circumstances under which Jack Crawford found me, Miss Lounds. Although I don’t think you came here to listen to the ranting of a madman.” 

“I write about madmen for a living. To each their own, I’d say.”  

“Is that really why you came?” 

“I believe that you cared for Abigail Hobbs,” Freddie answers with a honesty that surprises even herself.  

“And I believe the same of you,” says Will Graham. “Unless, of course, that was merely your acting, and my psychosis.” 

She shrugs, and her smile is genuine. “Takes one to know one.” 

* * *

Freddie has just stood to leave when he looks up. “One more thing, Miss Lounds. How adept are you in defending yourself?” 

“Basic self defence, some shooting practice. You know how some unsavoury characters can get when they're cornered, I'm sure.” 

“Not enough.” He does not mirror the careful lightness in her tone, not this time. “You know Beverly Katz.” 

It isn't a question, and Freddie doesn't need any further prompting to recall the agent from the visit she’d made to Forensics.  

Will Graham's eidetic memory for crime scenes rivals her own talent for people and faces. They both know this, and Freddie doesn't bother pretending otherwise.  

“She won't talk to me.” 

“That’s not what you need her for. Tell her I sent you to… talk about gardening.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “I won't ask why you feel this to be necessary.” 

_I wouldn't answer,_ Will Graham says wordlessly with the hard edges of his smile. 

Freddie nods and turns to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Freddie, not quite sure how well that went, but I posted it anyway since I can't seem to get anywhere else with it.


End file.
